


In Mercy, Bright Is The Blade

by penpaperbookcoffee



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: ALL THE DURIN FAMILY FEELS, Don't read this for happy times, Gen, I am going to go curl into a ball and sob, IDEK how I wrote this, In which BoFA happens people, Seriously., and I am enough of a masochist to write it, and death, because people really do ask for this stuff, bring your tissues, hobbit_kink fill, in a Very Bad Way, it may even be a mercy, that's your last warning people, this story is ALL THE SADS, you know what I'm talking about here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penpaperbookcoffee/pseuds/penpaperbookcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will do this, for the last of his blood--most fearless, most loyal, brightest of his Company.  He can do no less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Mercy, Bright Is The Blade

**Author's Note:**

> For [this hobbit_kink meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=17187506#t17187506) prompt:
> 
> _For some reason, someone (preferably Thorin, but whoever you want is fine) has to kill someone else out of mercy._
> 
> _As in, they're too grievously injured and are going to suffer too much, or they're infected with something that's going to kill them slowly and painfully, or they're losing their mind and ask for it because they don't want to lose their control... so Thorin-Or-Whoever steps in to do the honourable thing and kill them._
> 
> ...and this is where my mind took it. I'm not even sure the prompter wanted something this sad. Sorry.
> 
> Unedited and unbeta'd. A fast, furious fill before the Epic Feels bitchslap me back into silence. Also, some of the book details of the Battle of Five Armies have been changed to make this possible. And more painful. Will possibly be edited and such in the future, if my heart can stand it.

_"We shall show mercy, but we shall not ask for it."_

_Winston Churchill_

_  
_What was left of the Defiler's body lay in pieces on the ground Thorin kneeled on.  The King had left nothing of the Pale Orc to be salvaged, nothing to return and rip away at his people ever again.

Thorin did not care.

The battle raged around him.  On all sides, his people, his once-enemies, and his once-neighbors, fought the unending tide of fell creatures.

He staggered to his feet, grit his teeth against the massive wounds that he knew were killing him, and forced his way forward.

He would die, yes, and it would be deserving.  But not before he found them.

Thorin would not fail them.

He tracked to where he'd last heard their screams, savage and powerful and defiant to the end.  He had never been prouder than in that moment, the moment of their glory, when he'd caught sight of them fighting towards him, faces terrible in their fury and their will to make it to their King, to fight at his side.  Nothing would stop them, his warriors, his _kin,_ and those that tried fell before them.  

The songs his people would write for them, the tales they would tell!  Thorin could almost hear them already, here, surrounded by the music of battle and death.   _Such_ glory, in that moment.  The Line of Durin.  Fierce.  Strong.  Loyal.  Courageous.  Brighter than any other in battle.

To the end.

The very end.

Thorin found them against a rock, saved from further attack or defiling by the weathered stone, Fili's golden mane a beacon amongst battle and blood.  As he pushed himself around the rock, Thorin saw Kili in Fili's arms, the younger brother nestled back against his older brother's front, Kili's head tilted up towards Fili's, as if they were just children again and Kili was begging for stories.

There would be no stories this day.  

The body Fili held was just that, a body, the younger brother's eyes glazed and spirit long gone to The Maker's halls.  Thorin traced the grievious injuries up his youngest nephew's body and came, at last, to the blade embedded in his chest.  He knew that blade as well as he knew his own, for he'd made two, one for each of his sister-sons at their coming of age, blades bright and strong and sharp, forged from mithril melted down from the last of Thorin's own daggers.  Blades that would never fail his nephews, so long as they were wielded with steady hand.

Two hands were gripped around the handle--one smaller, slightly lax, two fingers covered in archer's leathers; the second still white-knuckled and gripping, holding both hands steady on the blade.

At the sound of a rattling breath, Thorin tore his gaze away from that truth and up to meet his oldest nephew's pained gaze.  Fili was failing, his body beginning to shake and spasm as death came over him.  But Fili's eyes were still clear, and his face was twisting up, and Thorin knew, they both knew, it would not be a fast death.

_"Thorin..."_

It was a blood-soaked whisper, and Thorin immediately tried to shush him, looking around for something, anything, to try and stop the inevitable.  But Fili was adamant, even at the end, and would not be deterred.  From somewhere deep, Fili found strength enough to clutch at Thorin's arm and bring Thorin's attention back to him.

_"I could not... let him die in agony. Not when he asked. Not...when we...promised."_

"Fili." Thorin's voice was not that of commander or King, but it was still strong, still demanding, the voice of his Uncle. "There may yet be hope for you."

_"No!"_

A wail, a demand, strong and carrying.  Still fierce, still unbending, eyes burning, now, that someone would deny him.   _Heir,_ thought Thorin.  _My Heir._

_"Even.. even if I could live.. I would not, my King.  Kili is gone, by my hand.  You come to me... at my end, at **our** end, on the verge of yours.  I would not... would not live to see beyond these moments, my King. This is no... no kingdom.. for me, now."_

It seemed to Thorin that this last speech had finally weakened Fili.  But still Fili's hand clenched at his arm, and Thorin finally looked down to see the twin to the blade in Kili's chest resting against his own arm.  He met Fili's eyes again.

Resolve. Fear. Loyalty. Love.

So much emotion in those fierce eyes, the same emotions today as there had been the day Thorin had named Fili his Heir.

Fili made to lick dry, bloodied lips, and his next words were harsh and soft.

_"Please.. Uncle, please, I --"_

"Shh..." Thorin shushed Fili, leaning forward to press a kiss on his brow.  When he continued, his voice was strong and sure, though laced with pain. "I will not have you beg for this mercy, as you would not have let your brother beg.  You have earned this chosen death, my warrior, my heir...  My son."

Thorin looked down.  He slid his hand up to curl around the shaking hand that held the mithril dagger, even as his other hand pushed away layers of battered armor and torn cloth.  As their hands moved the dagger over Fili's heart, the light from the fires burning around them caught the handle, and the rune that glowed bright as the sun on its hilt was _Kili's_.

Thorin's smile was small, but fierce, overflowing with sorrow and pride and love in equal measure, mirroring perfectly the smile on his dying nephew's face.  The _khuzdul_ rumbled in the space between them, peaceful and powerful:

"I thank you for your service, my nephews.  I thank you for your loyalty.  I thank you for your lives and for the privilege of witnessing them from the fires of their start to the glory of their ends."

Thorin moved his free hand down to encircle the hands that gripped the blade in Kili's chest, and he dropped a quick kiss upon Kili's temple, before returning to hold Fili's gaze.  Fili's breaths began to hitch and choke, and his eyes began to tear in pain, but still they stared steadily into Thorin's own as Thorin sent his and his brother's spirits to their Maker.

"I thank you for your bravery.  For your blades and for your bow.  For your spirit and laughter and light.  For your unflinching courage.  For your faith in a dying dream."

As blade pierced skin, Fili couldn't stop the widening of his eyes at the sudden pain, the hitching gasp of breath, but still his gaze held and, though the urge was riding him to spare his nephew any pain, Thorin would not fail Fili's trust.  "But mostly, my nephews, my Fili, my Kili, dearest of kin and keepers of my sister's heart and spirit and all the best of our line, I thank you for your love.  It is with all my pride and honor and love that I send you home to our Father--in glory, and in the brightest fire, without shame."

And the shining blade, twin to the blade in his brother's chest, made for them by Thorin, who'd forged them as strong and bright and true as their wielders, did not fail to find Fili's heart.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm just going to go cry and die, now.


End file.
